Page 141 of Shattered By Grace

Adams grabbed her wrist. “Victoria, wait?—”

Victoria wrenched free, her eyes burning with fury. “No. You don’t get to try and stop me.” She turned on her heel, heading straight for the door.

“You could die,” Adams said quietly.

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. “Then I will die protecting my friend.”

Adams exhaled, his voice raw. “Victoria, I am so sorry. You have to believe me. I’ve watched you grow up into this amazing young woman?—”

“Don’t.” She spun back to face him, eyes flashing. “Just don’t. You’re no better than the rest of them.”

Her hands reached up, slowly pulling the pins from her hair, the movement deliberate. Controlled. Preparing for war. “If you really felt bad, if you really wanted to make this right, then get your FBI connection to show up at the club.”

Adams hesitated. “Victoria…”

“That’s where Taylor is, isn’t it?” Her voice was deadly calm.

He exhaled sharply, guilt flashing in his eyes. “Justin took her there. That’s where Cassian wants you to go.”

Victoria’s grip on the hairpins tightened.Of course.

“Did Tristan know about this plan?”

Adams shook his head quickly. “N-no. Neither Tyson nor Tristan knew. I think Cassian is trying to test their loyalty tonight.”

A sharp, humorless laugh left her lips. “You’re guessing?”

“Are you and Tristan together?”

Her eyes snapped to him, annoyance flaring.

What the fuck does that have to do with anything?She thought.

She shook her head, tying her hair back, every motion slow and methodical, as if giving him one last chance to make this right.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Get on the fucking phone, Adams. Make the calls. Because I swear to God, if one hair is out of place on Taylor’s head, I will burn this fucking city to the ground.”

Words failed Adams. His jaw tensed, his fingers twitching at his sides as if reaching for something…an excuse, a defense, anything…but nothing came. He just swallowed hard.

She stepped closer, voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “And I’ll make sure your house is on that list.”

Chapter Sixty-Three

The car ride to Crimson Veil felt both endless and too short. A tightness settled in her chest, the silk of her gown sticking to her skin like a ghost of the betrayal she had just swallowed down. Cassian’s face flashed in her mind, with his cold, calculating, and ruthless expression. The man who had killed her father. The man she had to face tonight.

Her phone buzzed, the words from Adams’ last message burning into her retinas.

Adams

Enter through the back door. Don’t stop. Don’t hesitate. Cassian’s men are watching the main floor.

Victoria swallowed hard. Forty-five minutes. That was all she had before hell crashed through these walls. And yet, even with the clock ticking, a small, insistent part of her wished she could just walk away from it all. She couldn’t. Not tonight. Not when Cassian was waiting.

The driver pulled up to the back door, the neon glow from the club bleeding into the night like an open wound. She could hearthe bass thrumming from within, the pulse of the underworld beating just beneath society’s polished surface.

Slipping out of the car, she tugged her gown tighter around her, the smooth fabric an armor of its own. The air was thick with sweat, smoke, and something metallic—blood, maybe. A stark contrast to the elegance she was draped in.

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